


Mr. Winchester, Do You Have A Moment?

by CrowleysHellhound



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Smut, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, destiel smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleysHellhound/pseuds/CrowleysHellhound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Castiel and Crowley all teach at the same high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Mr Winchester, Do You Have a Moment?"

"Mr. Winchester, do you have a moment?" Dean's jaw clenched as soon as he heard that cocky British accent. He looked up at the short man in his unnecessarily formal black suit and tie, leaning casually against his doorframe with a slight smirk.

"What do you want, Crowley?" He asked, avoiding eye contact and looking at his desk.

"Could we perhaps speak in the hallway?" Dean got up, glaring at his students as they "Ooohed" collectively. "Read pages 108 through 126 and answer question 1-7, 9, 11-16, and 20. Anything you don't finish will be for homework," he said, ignoring the groans as he strode to the door, closing it behind him.

"What the hell could you possibly want now?"

"Well that's no way to address your coworker, squirrel." "Stop calling me squirell Crowley, or I swear to god-"

"Now let's not get off on the wrong foot here. I just wanted to tell you I'm hosting the staff Christmas party you should attend." Dean sighed. He dreaded staff Christmas parties, especially now that Crowley was hosting.

"Fine." He turned to go back to his class, hand on the doorknob, when Crowley called out, "Don't forget your husband - Castiel." Dean went back to his desk, pissed off. He picked up his phone - not an iPhone, god no. A Motorola with a slide out keyboard was as technologically advanced as he was going to get.

 

Hey. We gotta go to the staff party tonight crowleys hosting

He put his phone down and began trading yet another shitty English essay, dully explaining why Shylock was the villain. Wouldn't it kill the kids to have a little creativity? They wrote what they thought he wanted. Little did he know, he wanted - _craved_ \- variety. He hoped, like he did every year, that somebody would write an essay on why Shylock was just a normal man, with pent up anger from racism and hatred directed towards him for years, and Portia was a hypocritical bitch, begging for Antonios mercy but demanding Shylock be hanged. He was slashing every other line with his red pen, getting angrier, when he heard a bing. He immediately picked up his phone.

 

Shit, I guess w rlly gotta get drunk lol

 

Dean laughed slightly, putting his phone down. _We will, Castiel._ He thought. _We will._

 

_***********_

_"_ Jesus _Christ,_ when can we go home?" Dean slurred into Castiel's ear. 

"Dean, you're already drunk, stop with the beers." Castiel whispered back in his low, gravelly voice.

"Oh, you're just jealous you can't be."

Castiel looked around and realized the people were gone. "Come on, Dean. Time to go home," he said, helping him up off the couch. They were putting their shoes on, ready to leave, when Crowley came meandering out of the kitchen, whiskey in his hand and clearly wasted already.

"Leaving so soon, boys?"

"We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome," Castiel said coldly.

"Heyy, Crowley," Dean groaned. "Why are y'such an azzu- azzo- azzole?" Crowley frowned slightly.

"An asshole? I thought we were _friends_ now," he slurred his speech, clearly having had way too much to drink.

"When have we _ever_ been friends?" Castiel hissed. Crowley looked sad.

"I thought that we - were _good,_  affer t'night. Y'showed up." 

"I came for th' _booze,_ Growley. N - not _you._  Nobody likes _you._ " Dean laughed. Crowley looked at him, eyes wide and ful of hurt. Dean saw him and laughed again with a belch.

"Did y'think we came for _you?_ N'body loves _you_ Growley! Why'd y'even host? People jus' came t' drink y' dry! Why'd you host?" Dean stumbled over. " _Why'd you host?"_

_"_ I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED!" Crowley screamed, shocking Dean into silence, staring into his eyes with a pleading look. "I just wan' t'be _loved. I d'serve t'be loved!"_ He fell down onto his couch, muttering, "I want t'be loved.. I wan' t'be _loved..."_

"Come on Dean. We should go," Castiel said softly. He looked at Crowley and paused in his way out the door. He went to the kitchen, leaving Dean confused. A few moments later he returned, with a couple glasses of water, some bread and a hard boiled egg he'd found. He put them on the coffee table with a note saying "EAT ME."

"He's gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," Castiel said to Dean, trying to explain as he looked, dazed and confused. "Unlike you, he won't have _me_ to make him feel better," he smirked, and Dean slapped his arm. 

"'M _tired,_ Cassiel. Cah - cas - el.." Dean closed his eyes, leaving a disgruntled Cas to drag him back to the Impala and drive them home.


	2. Bollocks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel try to talk with Crowley about the Christmas party.

Dean moaned and rolled over, throwing up over the side of the bed.

"Really, Dean? Again?" Cas sighed, bending down to clean up his mess once again.

"Dude, I had, like, ten beers. What'd you expect?"

" _Thirteen_ , actually." Cas muttered under his breath.

"Aw, come on. You know you love me, my little angel." Dean smirked, teasing Cas with his pet name for him. Cas groaned; he hated being called angel.

"Come on. I'll make it up to you." Dean said, propping himself up. "I'll bow you," he said, reaching for Cas's buckle.

"Not with _that_ dirty mouth," Cas grinned, getting up and sauntering into the kitchen, in search for a snack. 

"Hey! If anyone's got a dirty mouth here, it's _you,_ Mr. I'm-Gonna-Whisper-In-Your-Ear-How-I'm-Gonna-Fuck-You-Later-On-When-We're-Done-At-Crowley's-Party!"

"Hey, speaking of Crowley, do you remember what he said last night? Or were you too wasted?" Cas asked, walking back in with a mouthful of chocolate cake and frosting-covered fingers.

"Oh, where he broke down and yelled about his _need_ to be _loved_? Maybe if he wanted toe loved he shouldn't be a complete asshole. Can't say he isn't hot though," Dean smirked at Cas, winking. Cas gasped and hit him on the shoulder.

_"Dean!"_

"Oh, don't worry. I love you, Cas, I'd never go for Crowley when I had you around. Besides, he'd probably be a bottom, what _ever_  would we do then?" Dean teased. He thought Cas was adorable when he was jealous.

"Dean! What are you saying?!"

"And I bet he's got super weird kinks. Like, foot fetishes. He'd probably get hard just looking at my pretty lil feet."

"Dean, stop talking about Crowleys sex life!"

"Okay, okay. Why do you always get so worked up when I joke around? You know I only love you."

"Because you're _mine,"_  Cas growled, kissing Dean. He let his lips linger, then stood up and walked away, leaving Dean groaning.

"Well you didn't think I had a dirty mouth _then_ , angel!"

Castiel poked his head around the corner. "Oh, not for my mouth, but my dick is _way_ too good for booze and vomit," he teased lightly, walking back to the kitchen for some more cake.

***********

Dean pulled up to the school, putting the Impala in park. He sighed and sat for a moment before turning the engine and stepping out, as Cas got out the passenger side.

"I'll see you later, baby." Dean said longingly, with a hint of sadness. 

"Dean, I literally teach down the hall from you. I'm walking in with you," Castiel sai, looking at Dean with that adorable confused expression, tilting his head as he always did when not understanding. 

"Oh, no," Dean said, looking up. "I wasn't talking to you." He patted the roof of his car fondly and started allying away with long strides.

"Dean - Dean, wait up!" Castiel called annoyedly, trench coat flapping in the wind as he jogged to walk in with his husband.

************

" _God,_ Dean,  my students are absolutely atrocious today."

"Well, it is a Momday. I don't blame 'em," Dean said as he plundered the staff room fridge. "Aha," he said, holding a cherry pie up, gazing at it with true happiness in his eyes, eager to dig in. "My other baby."

"Which _baby_ of yours am I?" Castiel asked, taking slow purposeful steps towards Dean.

"My other _other_ baby," He breathed, Cas's face only inches from his now. He tried maintain eye contact, but he broke and his eyes flickered down to those beautiful pink lips of Castiel's, mesmerized as Cas put his hands on either side of Dean on the wall, trapping him somewhere he absolutely had _no_ intention of escaping. Castiel closed the cap, kissing Dean softly at first, then quickly getting rougher and sloppier.

"Am I interrupting you two lovebirds?"

Dean groaned audibly as Castiel moved away from him and turned to face the door. Crowley stood with a slight smirk, holding a Tupperware and some utensils. After a moment of silence he strolled over the the microwave and put his lunch in. He leaned back on the counter.

"I hope you weren't.. _Busy_."

"Crowley, I haven't fucked my husband in _days_  and I really just want to blow him right now, can you fucking leave us alone for _once?"_  Dean groaned, running his fingers through his hair, exasperated.

"Well I truly hope you weren't planning on, what was it, blowing your husband in _here,_ because I really do enjoy my lunch in a sanitary room," Crowley said, looking at them with wide, innocent eyes.

"You want to be loved, Crowley? This is why nobody loves you, because you're a fucking _asshole!"_  Dean exploded. Crowley looked genuinely stunned and at a lack for words, which made Dean feel proud deep inside, because Crowley always had a comeback. Crowley narrowed his eyes.

" _What_ are you talking about, Squirell?" Dean opened his mouth to reply when Castiel cut him off.

"What Dean is _trying_ to say," Cas said, glaring at Dean, effectively silencing him, "is that you say you want to be loved but if you _do_ , you might need to.. Be more welcoming. Open your heart, so to speak."

"Open my heart? What is this, Jesus class? And when did I say I wanted to be loved? I never said that, and _definitely_  not to you two." The microwave beeped, and Crowley opened it, retrieving his container. He sat down at the table and opened it, revealing a generous helping of lasagna. Dean couldn't help but stare at it, entranced by the smell.

"At your Christmas party. I'm not surprised you don't remember, because you were drunk out of your mind. How many shots did you have? Ten? More? I'm honestly shocked you didn't die of alcohol poisoning." Dean snapped at him.

"Well, I have a very strong system. And what exactly did I tell you?"

"You told us that you thought we were buddies - you thought 'we were good' - because we attended. You then proceeded to yell that you deserved to be loved and just wanted to be loved, then curled up in a ball and whispered 'I just want to be loved' until you passed out." Castiel informed him.

"Did I?" Crowley asked, looked shocked and wide eyed. "Bollocks."

"You know, I'd say you had some daddy issues, Crowley." Dean hissed, looking for a reaction. "Or maybe you never had a daddy. Maybe you just had a mommy." Dean saw Crowley change slightly, looking uncomfortable, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. "You did, didn't you? Ooh, but I bet she was a _bad_  mommy. Drunk? She beat you maybe. Told you that you weren't worth even a pig." Dean leaned in. " _I bet she left you because she never loved you, Crowley._ "

" _DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY BLOODY MOTHER!"_  Crowley screamed, standing up and looking Dean in the eye with such rage that Dean was honestly terrified by this five foot man with a stench of expensive whiskey. Crowley closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, taking deep breaths. Finally, his jaw unclenched and he opened his eyes. He picked up his lunch and turned, walking briskly to the door. Right before he left though, he turned around to face Dean, hatred in his eyes.

"By the way, I was worth three pigs, at _least_. I could juggle." And with that, he strode out, with his shoulders back, chin up, and tears streaming down his face that neither of the men could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad to do this to Crowley, I love him so much honestly. But everyone needs an angry Crowley.


	3. Dean!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel isn't happy.

_"Dean!"_ Castiel hissed lividly, in that scream-whispering tone. Dean turned to face him lazily.

"What, Cas?"

"What was _that_?" He growled, and Dean saw how pissed he was, but continued to play it cool. 

"That was me, uh, _chatting_  with Crowley about his childhood.

"What makes you think that behaviour was even _slightly_  acceptable?"

Dean looked at Castiel with shock. "Cas, this is Crowley we're talking about. He's an asshole!"

" _Nobody_ deserves to be hurt like that Dean, to - to be reminded - _taunted,_  nonetheless- of their only parent walking out on them as a child!"

"Crowley does," Dean muttered to himself. Castiel scoffed and looked at him in complete shock.

"What is _wrong_ with you today Dean?" He asked in disbelief, before leaving the room to go to his next class he had to teach.

**********

Crowley sat at his kitchen table, pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey.

"Here's to the only bloody bastard who's ever cared about me," Crowley said to the empty room, holding up his glass. "Myself." He downed the drink in a gulp, coughing. "Ah. Now _that's_ a drink if I ever had one."

"Four o'clock on a Monday and you're already chugging whiskey?"

"I am not _chugging_  it, Castiel," Crowley said without looking up at the man he knew was in his doorway, "I am merely drinking shots of it in... rapid succession." He grabbed a second glass and poured some, holding it out without having looked up still. 

"Well bloody take it," Crowley said after a few seconds in which Castiel made no move towards him, "If _you_ came to _me -_ without knocking I might add - I'd say you have a problem that a little drinking could solve."

Castiel hesitated for a moment. "I don't drink," he said, walking over and sitting down. "It kills your brain cells." 

"Well." Crowley said, looking somewhat disgruntled, "More for me." Castiel sat awkwardly as Crowley gulped down Castiel's drink and his own.

"Well what do you want? To mock me some more? Or to talk about what I said in a drunken stupor?"

"Crowley-" Castiel began, only to be rudely cut off.

"Don't 'Crowley' me, I don't want to get all soft and emotional with you, or anyone. All I need is my drinks." 

"Crowley, I'm sorry about what Dean said. He was out of line."

"Well," Crowley sneered, "that'd mean a lot more coming from Dean himself, not his boyfriend. Although you are pretty damned hot, this isn't your problem and you can't solve it." Castiel sighed.

"Crowley, I want us all to just be friends. I'm sick of the fighting and the hatred. Can't we all just get along?"

"No." Crowley said simply, pulling an assignment from his Earth and Space Sciences class out of his bag. A picture, not photo, of Juno orbiting Jupiter was plastered across the front. "Bloody hell, I've got a class full of morons. _How_  many times must I say use an _actual_ photo and not just an artists _impression?"_

"Crowley, I know you're mother walked out on you, as did your father, and it's made you drink your feelings away your whole life, but you have to listen to me when I say th-"

"Get out of my house." Crowley said with a completely calm, emotionless expression, looking at his table and not Castiel.

"What?" Castiel asked, eyes squinting slightly.

"I said, get _OUT OF MY BLOODY HOUSE BEFORE I KICK YOU OUT THE TOP STORY MYSELF_!" Crowley screamed, his face contorted and red with anger and rage. Castiel leapt up and got out of Crowley's home in seconds. 

Crowleys face returned to its calm, placid state as he poured himself another drink.

**********

"You were _where_?" Dean asked.

"I went to Crowleys. Listen, Dean, I just wanted to talk-"

"Oh no, I hear you, loud and clear. You went to talk to _Crowley_ because you think we should all be friends!"

Castiel groaned. "Dean, we should put be so-"

"So what?" Dean turned to face him. "So rude? Cas, man, Crowley is nothing _but_  rude, and you want to help him? Why?"

"Because he's a broken man, Dean!" Castiel yelled, shocking Dean, although he didn't show it. Castiel never raised his voice. "And we should help him rather than make him worse!"

"What am I, a therapist? It's not my problem he's got mommy issues, he shouldn't take it out on us! Why do you even care?"

Castiel moved so fast Dean barely saw him coming until he was pressed against the wall, with an enraged Cas holding him there (although not enough to hurt - Cas would _never_ abuse anyone) and glaring at him, holding back his anger.

"Do you forget I, too, came from a broken household? Do you remember what I was like when you found me? Before you put me back together - I was like him, I was worse! And you, you _helped_ me, Dean - every time I lashed out I just wanted _help,_ but how could I admit it? _Crowley needs help before he's too far gone, Dean, before he drinks himself to death at his table - and I will help him with you beside me or not!"_  Castiel let go of Dean and stalked away, stewing with anger and memories.

Dean slept on the couch that night, but Castiel truly wished Dean was with him. He always kept the nightmares and memories  away. But without him, they flooded his mind.

 

_"What is wrong with you, boy? What is wrong with you?"_

_Castiel started crying, the pieces of the plate scattered him, having cut his feet and ankles terribly. But all his mother cared about was the plate and the blood stains._

_"You can't do anything! Clean up this mess!"_

_It was no job for a five year old. The plate pieces cut his fingers, and his feet kept bleeding while he tried to clean the blood. He should've gone to the hospital, but the day that woman cared enough to take him to a hospital was the day pigs flew._

_Castiel tied some old rags to his feet to soak up the blood. He was just finishing when his mother came back and dropped in front of him a small bag. He looked inside and found a small amount of food and his few toys friends had gifted him._

_"Get out of my house, boy."_

_He looked up in shock._

_"I said GET OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I KICK YOU OUT THAT DOOR MYSELF! I've got more mouths to feed than I can handle and you're a pain in the arse. Leave!_

_He scrambled out the door when he heard a voice from inside._

_"Castiel! Where are you going?" He turned back to see the door open, his older brother Gabriel watching, confused. Then his mother appeared behind him._

_"Get back in here! He's not your brother anymore, he's not a part of this family! If you talk to him again so help me god, I'll kick you out too Gabriel!"_

_Gabriel looked sadly at his brother before closing the door. Castiel knew his brother had no choice._

"Mother... No.. N-no, I'm _sorry_ mother!" Dean heard Cas's pained cries, and crept into the bed to try and comfort him, but it was no use. Castiel would have a rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting kinda intense. I have absolutely no plan for the story at the moment.


	4. Drunk.

"Why did I  _ever_ agree to drink at a bar with you?" Crowley asked, groaning. The bright lights flashed and loud music blared. Bars had once been fun in his life, but now they were just extra headaches with overpriced booze.

"Because I'm buying." Dean said, smiling. Crowley knew he was only smiling because he was too drunk already to remember he and Crowley weren't exactly buddies. 

"Christ, Dean, how much did you drink? Did you do _shots?"_  Crowley asked incredulously. 

"'Course I did," Dean laughed, like a fourty year old man doing shots was a normal thing.

"Why? We're too old for vodka if it's not in a mixer," Crowley said, with a scathing undertone that Dean didn't pick up on, in his drunkenly oblivious state.

"To get _drunk_ , Crowley. Hey, Crowley, what's your first name?" Dean asked, staring at him with as much seriousness and concentration as he could muster.

"I can't tell you," Crowley stated plainly.

"Why not?"

"Because it's _disgusting,_ " Crowley groaned. "I swear, my mother named me like we were living 300 years ago."

"I guess I'll just have to get you drunk to find out," Dean muttered, flashing a grin as he ordered a beer.

*************

Dean and Crowley roared with laughter in the near empty bar, Crowleys face flushed red with alcohol.

"Another couple whiskeys," Crowley called to the bartender.

"I think you boys have had enough," he said. "Although I'd be more than happy to serve you up something without alcohol."

"Two cokes, then," Dean said, and turned back to Crowley as the bartender walked into the back room to find some pop.

"So, what _is_ your real name?"

"Fergus," Crowley said, his face going more red, embarrassed.

" _Fergus!"_  Dean crowed. "Your mother must've _hated_ you to name you _that!"_  

"Oh, she did, the bloody cunt," Crowley said, his face falling, dead serious. "Old bitch hated me. Told me I was conceived during a winter solstice orgy. When I was a baby she'd dose me with whiskey until I passed out. 'I never gave you sweets as a child,' she tells me. 'No matter how much you cried.' Tried to sell me for three pigs... I was a _good_ child, Dean. I was worth more than three pigs! I juggled. Then, she left when I was eight."

Dean sat in silence, stunned. "That sucks, man. My mom died when my brother Sam was just 6 months, and I've pretty much raised him ever since. Our father wasn't much of a father, he just dragged us all over the country for work. Whole bunch of shitty motels."

Crowley didn't seem to register what Dean had said, as he continued. "But I had to go stay with a distant relative. Lucifer. He was terrible, Dean. He kept me in a dogs kennel for months until I'd broke and finally just did whatever he wanted. He'd call me puppy and treat me like a dog. He made me stay on all fours and call him master. He made me clean the floor with my _tongue,_ Dean! He'd have his - his _sadistic_ friends over to show off his new _pet_ and he'd make me do what _ever_  they wanted for them, which was _exactly_  like it sounds. He was a _monster,_ Dean!" Crowley had gone from calm and collected to screaming hysterically, tears streaming down his face.

"Crowley, are you alright?" Dean asked as the bartender emerged, trying to mind his own business and pretend he didn't hear anything, passing them two cans of Coke. Crowley didn't reply. 

"Keep the change," Dean said, giving the bartender a fistful of coins. He put Crowleys arm over his shoulder and stood up, carrying the short man outside. 

"Uh, Crowley, it's really late and we're _really_ drunk, so I'm just gonna call you a taxi, okay?" He looked through Crowleys pockets as he stood there muttering to himself about Lucifer and swore. Of course he didn't have any money, he hadn't _planned_  to go out, Desn hauled him into the Impala after school without warning. And he didn't have enough to buy Crowley a taxi ride home, only to get one to his own house. It looked like Crowley was spending the weekend at Dean and Cas's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short, I just don't think the next part of the story combines with this one into a chapter properly.


	5. Snowday!

Crowley woke up confused. Where the fuck was he? Slowly, and with a pounding headache, he stood up, looking at the pink comforter and pillows he'd been sleeping with in distaste. He smelled coffee brewing and bacon sizzling. He made his way towards the smell, carefully, to avoid triggering his stomach into emptying its contents.

"You're up," Castiel said, looking at Crowley. He was flipping the bacon and buttering some toast. "Dean is still asleep, and I doubt he'll be up soon. He could sleep for days after getting that drunk." Castiel was so light hearted, like they were friends.

"Well. I smelled burnt toast and thought I might be having a stroke," Crowley said, grimacing as his head pounded. He sat down at their table, uncomfortable with being there, to say the least.

"Well have a cup of coffee, it'll do you good," Castiel insisted, pouring him some from his Kuerig.

"To avoid beating around the bush, I must ask - why am I in the house of quite possibly the two people who loathe me the most?" Crowley asked.

"First of all - I don't loathe you. You and Dean loathe each other, and you loathe me, but I don't loathe you at all, Crowley. And Dean brought you here after you go so drunk you couldn't remember who you were anymore and he only had money left for a taxi ride here and you had no money." Crowley sighed, putting some bacon and toast on a plate and sliding it towards Crowley before sitting down himself. Crowley's stomach growled, and he reluctantly began to eat.

"Well, thank you for your kindness, but I'd better be going before Dean wakes up, as I doubt he will be as nice as you are being. I'll take a bus." Crowley said, with underlying contempt when he mentions Castiel's kindness.

"Uh, that won't be happening," Castiel said nervously. Crowley gave him an impatient look.

"Why the bloody hell not?" He growled.

"Unless you think it's possible for buses to drive through six feet of snow. And the Impala's at the bar, so that's not happening without public transportation," Castiel explained. Crowley groaned.

"You mean to tell me I'm stuck in this house with you two for the weekend?" Crowley yelled, Castiel wincing.

"Yes, and please, keep it down, Dean is still asleep."

"Well, that should be pleasant, especially since God knows you two definitely have quite the sex drive," Crowley said, only lowering his volume by a hair.

"Listen, Crowley - I know there's no easy way to ask this, and it's none of my business, but Dean told me what you said last night-" Castiel began, only to be cut off.

"What, about mommy leaving me and Lucifer dearest making me his fucking sex fetish and slave for him and his friends and kept me in chains and collars for ten miserable fucking years? Damn bloody right it's none of your business, fucking piss off!" Crowley screamed, standing up and slamming his cutlery down on the table. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them back up and looked at Castiel calmly. "I think I'll go to my room for a bit," he said pleasantly, Casriel still reeling in shock. Crowley just started up the stairs as Dean started down. As they passed, Crowley grabbed his arm.

"You had no right to tell your husband what you shouldn't even know yourself. If you so much as breath a word to anybody I will end you," Crowley hissed vehemently before releasing him and stalking back upstairs.

 "What's with him?" Dean asked Castiel as he stood in the doorway, scratching his head and yawning. 

"Dean," Castiel said lowly.

"What? We gotta get him out of here this morning, man. I'm _really_ horny, man."

"Dean, we're snowed in at _least_  for the weekend, maybe longer if it doesn't stop."

"You mean we have to deal with _that_ five foot mess of hatred and self loathing for the weekend?" Dean asked, slightly panicked.

"I'm five nine, you bloody bastard!" Came an annoyed yell from above them.

"Dean," Castiel said, lowering his voice to a hush, "You heard what he yelled. He _needs_  our help. We're going to try and become friends this weekend. Be _nice_ to him."

Dean groaned. "Castiel, you better give me _so_ many blowjobs when he's gone."

"I can still hear you!" Crowley yelled again. "Fuck him if you want, I couldn't give a shit!" Dean put his face in his hands and groaned. A weekend or more in the same house as him? That would be the hardest thing Dean had ever done.

 


	6. Stop It!

"No.." Crowley moaned quietly. "No, no... No, stop it! No, please, stop!" His voice quickly progressed from barely a whisper to a scream in seconds. 

"Aah! I'm _sorry_  master, I'm _sorry!"_  He cried out as Castiel burst into the room, Dean right behind him. Crowley was flailing around, entangled in the pink bedsheets. 

"Crowley! Crowley, wake up!" Castiel yelled, shaking him. Suddenly he woke up.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't punish me!" Crowley still screamed, cowering away from Castiel. When Castiel tried to reach out to him, he simply tucked his head into his arms further and burrowed under the blankets. 

"Crowley, it's me, Castiel. You're safe. It was a dream. Lucifer is gone." Crowley slowly lowered his arms, panting. He looked up , seeing Cas and Deam standing over him, looking at him with concern. 

"What're you looking at?" He growled angrily. "Get out!"

"Crowley-" Dean tried, only to be cut off.

"I don't need your _sympathy_ or your _help_ , stop bloody staring at me like a fucking animal in a cage and _GET THE FUCK OUT, YOU BASTARDS_!" Dean and Castiel quickly removed themselves from the room, giving each other apprehensive looks. 

Crowley sat in the bed. He had just been having another nightmare. He shook with every breath as he tried to calm himself down. _It was just a dream_ , he thought. _Lucifer is gone now. All those things he and his friends would do.... I'm okay now. I'm okay._

 

Dean and Cas sat downstairs at the table.

"I didn't realize he'd fallen asleep again," Castiel said. "He must be worn out from the hangover and late night."

"Yeah, I don't know what's going on with him, but fuck, does it sound bad. I thought, at first, it was just his brother chaining him up and beating him and treating him like an actual dog, but after what he yelled at you earlier, it sounds like he did all that, and more... Like, rape and group rape." Dean said quietly enough that Crowleys sharp hearing wouldn't register what he'd said again. He underestimated his hearing before. 

"I just know that it's bad, Dean. We've got to help him." Castiel replied. 

"Damn right." 

Castiel opened his mouth to say something when he saw Crowley standing uncomfortably in the doorway. It was then that Cas realized he was still in a silk suit from the day before, and it was just sticking to him with sweat. 

"Crowley, you need a change of clothes," he said abruptly, standing up.

"No, I'm uh, I'm good in this." Crowley said with a pained smile. 

"No, I'll go find you something." Castiel stood up and walked away, leaving Crowley and Dean alone. They were both stiff and silent. Finally Crowley moved over to the table and sat down. 

"So - uh, how's your classes going?" Dean asked awkwardly, making forced small talk. 

"Oh, cut the bullshit," Crowley said. "You don't care and you both want to talk about all my problems." He wasn't saying it in his usual scathing way, but was simply stating the facts  

"Crowley, you need to talk about it at some point."

"Dean, I don't think you understand. I _can't_  talk about it."

"Why not?" 

Jsut then, Castiel returned. He was carrying sweatpants, a Hawaiin blue and yellow shirt and a sweater.

"Sorry the shirts a little tacky. I just picked whatever looked about the right size. And I picked pants with an elastic waistband because I didn't know your size.." Castiel rambled on, but Crowley didn't respond. He was fixed intently on that shirt.

"Crowley? Hey, snap out of it." Dean said, snapping his fingers. 

"No, I can't wear that," Crowley said faintly, still staring at the button up. 

"Why not?" Castiel asked. "I know it doesn't suit you well, but nothing else would really fit you."

"I'd sooner wear this suit for weeks than I would that damned shirt," Crowley said with a hint of fear. "You've managed to pick the shirt design he'd make me wear. Hangers full of that _exact_  damn shirt."

"Oh. Uhm." Castiel stammered, confused. "Well how about you just wear this sweater while I go wash the shirt you're wearing now? It might not be comfortable but it'll be clean and it'll fit," Cas gave him the clothes, and Crowley walked off to the bathroom, head lowered in shame of the recent happenings. As he changed, he tried to remember how he'd gotten into this mess. How he'd ended up at Dean and Castiel's house for several days while they fawned over him because they knew all his past. He walked out, zipping up the red and gray sweater. Castiel took the suit and hurried to the laundry room. 

"Where do you keep your whiskey?" Crowley asked Dean after a minute of silence.

"Dude, it's 10:30 in the morning."

"Sounds like a good a time as any to get drunk," Crowley replied. Castiel came out of the laundry room. 

"No. You're not drinking, Crowley."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Why do you think alcohol is a solution?"

"Because it's the only one I've got!" He yelled. "The only way to keep me from screaming all night and not have those _god forsaken nightmares_  of Lucifer and his buddies raping me for hours on end is to get as fucking drunk as I can, and let me tell you, I _don't want another fucking reminder of what they did!_ " Crowley was crying by that point. He turned around and went back upstairs. "Just leave me alone."

Castiel sighed. Another failed attempt to help put him back together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get me wrong, I love Crowley. He's my favourite. This will get better, I promise. It's my first time writing a fanfic.


End file.
